


Ireland

by PeregrineBones



Series: Ineffability [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Holidays, Ineffability, Leprechauns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 13:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeregrineBones/pseuds/PeregrineBones
Summary: An angel and a demon go on holiday together.





	Ireland

Aziraphale, feeling restless and bored in London, decided to take a walking holiday in Ireland. Business at the bookshop was slow. He put up a sign in the window that said _**“Closed, On Holiday**_” and wondered if anyone would even notice. Most serious book buyers now shopped on line, especially the type of clientele that Aziraphale had always courted; learned, fastidious and rich. Sadly, he had been forced to open an on line store, and the work of cataloguing his rare books was a chore he found extremely tedious. He needed a break.

He liked Ireland. He liked rainbows, he liked leprechauns (they always appeared as he walked the charming roadways, attracted by his angelic goodness.) He liked sheep, and long chilly misty afternoons, and strong tea and good Irish whiskey. He needed some exercise. He needed a change of scenery. A walking holiday would do him good.

Which is why the angel found himself drenched to the skin in a very picturesque, though also very muddy, Irish field on a very, very rainy Thursday in October. It was really raining hard. It was, in fact, the outer edge of a massive hurricane that was working its way through the Atlantic. The wind was fierce, the rain, absolutely driving. The angel walked on through the field, following the designated walking route provided to him by the tour company. The cows in the field lowed, and looked at him as if he were crazy. By the time he got to the pub where his tour company had arranged his night’s lodging, he was footsore, hungry and chilled to the bone.

He paused outside the pub. Through the driving rain and mist and lowering darkness he saw a familiar silver Bentley parked out front. It must be confessed that Aziraphale’s heart did a little flip flop when he saw the car. And he got a rather unangelic stirring in his pants.

The truth was he had been thinking about his friend Alexander Crowley. Missing him. They were both busy, it was true, but Aziraphale found himself yearning for something from the demon…. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His heart, the angelic center of his being, was restless, and unsatisfied. But at the knowledge that Crowley was waiting inside that warm Irish pub, it beat a little faster, and filled him with a hopeful glow.

Inside the demon was sitting at the bar, nursing a whiskey and looking his usual dead handsome. Dark hair, short on the sides, long on top, falling into his eyes. _“Like a blasted teenager,_” thought Aziraphale, with a combination of derision and lust. Black skinny jeans. Buttery leather jacket. Dark sunglasses. Aziraphale’s insides did another little flip.

He dropped his sopping wet backpack on the ground. He sidled up to the bar and took a seat beside Crowley. He was literally dripping wet.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“Hello, Angel,” Crowley replied.

“I thought you were needed in the…...North Wing.”

“West Wing, actually. Well, I was, but honestly, they’re doing so well on their own, I was starting to feel as if I was just getting in their way.”

“Hmph,” hmphed Aziraphale.

“I hear the fish and chips here is excellent,” commented Crowely, taking a sip of his drink.

Aziraphale did not respond.

“Wish I could have a smoke, though,” Crowley went on conversationally. “What’s the point of being in a pub if you can’t have a smoke? I can’t seem to get used to it.”

“Hmph.”

“You’re soaked through, Angel.”

Silence.

“You’ll catch your death.”

“I can’t get sick, Crowley! You know that.”

“Whiskey?”

“Yes, definitely,” said Aziraphale.

“And hot tea with lemon and honey to go with,” Crowley prescribed. He signaled for the bartender and ordered.

“How in heaven's name did you find me?” asked Aziraphale. “I was trying to … get away.”

Crowley shrugged. “I hacked your Mastercard. Well, not me actually. Some of my people.”

“Your people.”

“Oh yes. The best hackers in the world are working for me. Piece of cake, really.”

“Piece of cake?”

“Mmmm, yes,” replied Crowley.

“That’s a bit creepy,” responded Aziraphale.

Crowley grinned happily. “I think creepy is one of my better inventions, personally.”

Aziraphale sighed and took a sip of his whiskey. The heat of it hit the back of his throat, and spread through his body. It was incredibly smooth. Crowley had ordered top shelf.

“And I felt…..” Aziraphale heard the change in Crowley’s tone. He looked at the demon’s face for the first time. “I felt…. We had some unfinished business.” Alexander Crowley took a final drink of his very expensive Irish whiskey and then planted his mouth on the angel’s and kissed him, full on. For a moment the sun broke through the clouds and painted the world in a flaming sunset, bright red and burning as the fires of hell itself.

“Let’s get a room, Angel,” Crowley breathed.

The sodden angel inhaled the demon’s smoky breath, and a shudder ran through him. “It’s already booked,” he murmured.

Aziraphale was no longer cold.

********

They had breakfast together the next morning, sitting across the table from each other and drinking tea like a pair of old lovers. Which in fact they were, Aziraphale reminded himself. Centuries old. It felt…. Nice.

Crowley was scrolling through his phone distractedly. He put three sugars in his tea and Aziraphale suppressed the urge to tsk. When the food came, he gave his bacon and sausages to Crowley who devoured them hungrily. How he got away with eating like that Aziraphale had no idea. He ate his poached egg and tomato. He buttered a slice of toast and spread it with some black currant jam. He _was_ partial to the black currant jam they served in these parts.

Crowley looked up from eating and grinned at Aziraphale.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Angel?” he asked.

“I’m going to finish my hike,” said the angel, taking a bite of his toast. “Black Head Loop. What will you do?”

“I thought maybe I’d join you.”

“Join me? “

“Yes.”

“You don’t hike!”

“Yes I do. Surely I must have done….sometime.”

“When?”

“Ermm…...Rome. We walked over those hills. The elephants were coming. Hannibal, wasn’t it?”

“That wasn’t a hike! That was a military campaign!”

“I… I’m sure there was another time ...picnic by the lake? 1880s maybe? Lovely, innocent, young girls in white frocks? Well - they weren’t so innocent by the end of the day but that’s beside the point. There was hiking that day! I’m sure of it!”

“No,” said Aziraphale.

“No?”

“No. You’ll just get in my way. It’s Ireland. It’s a big place. There must be some devilment you can get up to here, to keep yourself amused.”

“Hmm……” said Crowley. He sat and thought for a moment, his chin in his hand. “Sorry. Can’t really think of anything.”

“Can’t you… get a priest to molest a child or something?”

“No,” said Crowley, and he shuddered. “That’s human business. Not my wheelhouse.”

“How about up north? The border conflict with Brexit? Surely you can stir up some trouble there.”

“Not much to do really, until parliament works out their differences with BoJo,” said Crowley in a bored voice. He took a sip of his tea, and went back to his phone.

Aziraphale sighed. Clearly the devilment that Crowley was planning to get up to was bedeviling him.

“I want to do the hike,” said Crowley.

“Really?”

Crowley lowered his glasses and looked over the top of them at Aziraphale, just for a moment. His yellow eyes were serious.

“Really,” he said.

********

As it turned out, Crowley was not a bad hiking companion. He did not feel compelled to talk, but progressed steadily up the trail, and seemed to genuinely be enjoying the peace and the view - the rocky barren landscape, the long vistas to the sea. The rain had cleared and the sun shone down on the green fields, dotted with sheep, giving them that classic Irish glow. And there was the added benefit that when they stopped at mid morning to share a flask of tea, Crowley took Aziraphale in his arms and kissed him in the warm October sunshine, kissed him in a way that made Aziraphale feel that they were the only two beings on earth.

“_Something holy is happening here_,” Aziraphale thought. And although he didn’t understand it he could not deny that it was so.

The Little People, who were always so kind and obsequious to Aziraphale, bringing him little gifts and treats (and yes, he admitted it, he enjoyed being appreciated like that sometimes, he did) were all atwitter at the sight of his new companion. They kept peeking out from under rocks or behind trees, whispering among themselves, waving excitedly with their hands. They didn’t seem to know what to make of Crowley.

They stopped around one, to eat the rather good lunch the pub had prepared for them (sausages, smoked gouda, fresh brioche, figs, and two bottles of stout apiece to wash it all down.) Just as they were finishing up, a small fellow, about the size of a large jar of jam, clearly a leader of sorts, came boldly forth and perched on a tree stump nearby.

“Hello there, sir, fine Demon sir,” the little man said to Crowley. He stood up and extended a tiny hand which Crowley shook with great seriousness. “O'Leary's the name. Pleased to meet your devilment! Yes, sir! Very pleased indeed!”

Crowley smiled. “I assure you, Mr. O'Leary, the honor is all mine.”

“How’re you enjoyin’ these fine parts then?”

“Oh, very much,” said Crowley politely. “Exceedingly. Lovely country you have here. Spectacular, really.”

“And yer fine, godly companion?” asked the leprechaun. “He’s enjoying it as well?”

“Yes, I think so,” Crowley replied. “Are you?” he asked turning to Aziraphale.

“Yes,” said Aziraphale briefly.

“And might I ask, if it's not being too forward. It's a little unusual to see one such as yourself around here. What’s your purpose like for a bein’ here?”

“Oh,” said Crowley. “I’m on holiday. Having a bit of a break. Well, you know, doing evil all day, every day, wears a body out. You should see my schedule. It's insane lately. Always on the go. I’m just here to enjoy the peace and quiet. Getting a little - you know, exercise and whatnot.”

“And your angelic companion?” asked the little man sharply. “What, under heaven, are you two doing here together?”

“Oh …. Well, poor Aziraphale. Really he’s had a rough few years. Hasn’t had a good spell since at least 2016. Poor fellow. He’s the one who really needs a holiday.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Aziraphale said, defensively. ”It hasn’t all been bad. I’ve had a few good projects!”

Crowley snorted. “Like what?”

“LGBTQ rights,” said Aziraphale. “You can’t deny I’ve made some progress there.”

“All right,” conceded Crowley. “I'll give you that. But really my side’s winning on every other front. The economy, the environment, immigration, wealth inequality, basic morality. It's been a glorious run I can tell you.” He and the tiny man high fived. The leprechaun toppled over from the force of it but he came up grinning.

“There’s….. Child safety seats!” said Aziraphale, obviously reaching. “We’ve made some real headway there!”

Crowley rolled his eyes.

“There’s …. The drinking straw ban!”

“See what I’m talking about?” said Crowley, confidentially to the little man.

“Smoking!” said Aziraphale. He could feel himself reddening. “Smoking is down by 80% world wide!”

“He’s why we can’t smoke in pubs anymore,” said Crowley to the leprechaun.

“Shame, that,” the leprechaun commiserated.

“Besides,” added Crowley. “If you count vaping a lot of those gains completely evaporate. And smoking is actually on the rise in Asia and Africa. Especially among women.”

Aziraphale glowered at Crowley. A host of extremely unangelic thoughts were crowding into his mind. He turned away, and looked out at the breathtaking view, to clear his head. A dark cloud came scudding across the sky and covered the sun. Aziraphale shivered.

The leprechaun had whipped out a tiny cell phone and he and the demon were exchanging numbers. Then, with a tinkle of false gold falling, he was gone.

When Aziraphale turned around and looked at Crowley, he was still sitting on the rock where they had eaten their picnic, looking rather sheepish. He removed his dark glasses and looked right at the angel. “Er….sorry about all that,” he said.

“You should be,” said Aziraphale stiffly.

“I guess I got a bit carried away.”

“You think?”

“Look, Aziraphale, I didn’t come here to make you mad.”

“Really? Bit hard to tell.”

Yeah….well…..”

“Why did you come here, exactly?” asked Aziraphale. He was angry, but he was also genuinely confused. He had no idea what the demon was after. “Aside from….. Obvious reasons.”

“Obvious reasons?”

“To get laid.”

“Oh. Well. You must admit, that_ was_ pretty spectacular.”

It had been. Aziraphale could not deny it. Just thinking about it again gave him a lovely little shiver, deep in his gut. The sun came out from behind the cloud, and the world suddenly glowed brighter all around them.

Crowley went over to where Aziraphale was standing and put his arms around him. He didn’t kiss him, but instead pressed their foreheads together.

“I….I’ve been feeling a bit lonely, if you must know. I thought it would be nice to….spend some time together.”

Aziraphale reached his arms around Crowley’s back and they stood there, in the warm sunshine, forehead to forehead, breathing each other in.

“Lonely?” Aziraphale repeated.

“I find eternity can get…...lonely,” said Crowley. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,“ agreed Aziraphale. “I do.” And he pulled the demon close against him, until there wasn’t any space between them at all. Around them all the birds burst into song.

*******

So the week progressed. Hiking during the day through variations of sun, wind and storm. The Little People paid an inordinate amount of obsequious attention to Crowley, and Aziraphale suffered through it. Evenings of pub food and excellent whiskey, followed by excellent sex. Breakfasts in various charming B and B’s, Aziraphale reading the paper, Crowley, on his phone, eating Aziraphale’s bacon. When it came time to leave, Crowley offered Aziraphale a ride home in the Bentley. They crossed the Irish sea, standing together at the railing of the ferry, and got to London about supper time. Crowley pulled up outside the bookshop, and Aziraphale sighed. He had a mind to invite the demon in to supper, but what would be the point of that? They’d had an unexpectedly good holiday together. There was no need to risk a fight by unduly extending it.

Crowley turned off the ignition.

“Help you with your luggage, Angel?”

“I can manage thank you.”

“You’ll be opening up the bookshop tomorrow, I suppose.”

“Oh yes. Lot’s of work waiting, I’m sure,” said Aziraphale.

“I guess I’ll be getting back to the grind as well,” said Crowley with a sigh.

“Yes, I’m sure they’re looking for you, in the South Wing.”

“West Wing, yes.”

Aziraphale knew he should get out of the car, go inside and make some dinner, but the prospect suddenly seemed unbearably bleak and lonely.

“It was a nice holiday,” said Crowley. “I enjoyed it.”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale. “Me too. I….. I’m glad you were able to join me.”

“Yes,” said Crowley. “Listen, Aziraphale. Don’t you want to grab a burger somewhere before you go home?”

“A burger?” said Aziraphale.

“Yeah. Sure. Just…. Aren’t you hungry? It’s dinner time…. And….” Crowley shifted uncomfortably in his very expensive leather seat.

“I don’t eat burgers, Crowley.”

“Oh… right….well… a black bean burger, or something. Whatever you people eat.”

“I… yes,” said Aziraphale. “A… a black bean burger sounds nice.” It did sound very good to Aziraphale, suddenly. Probably as good as a bite of apple had sounded to Eve, in that garden so long ago.

And so they locked the Bentley with the luggage still in it, and wandered off into London, seeking a black bean burger together.


End file.
